In the Light of the Moon
by The World in my Pocket
Summary: After defeating the Dark Lord, Harry realizes that the world isn't much different, and people are still expecting too much of him. But when he finally gets away and realizes who he is will he lose everything he had known before? Slight Ron/Hr, later HP/LL
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer**: I don't own anything but the plot to this story--not even the real plot behind it. Ugh. Depressing. ;) Just kidding...

**Author's Notes**: This is what I thought should have happened after Deathly Hallows. It is compliant with everything _but_ the epilogue, so you've been warned.

**Pairings this Chapter:** _Implied_ Ron/Hermione & Harry/Ginny.

**Pairings Note**: Ron/Hermione will pretty much be the only _constant_ couple in the first few chapters, until it really develops. I don't want to reveal too many of the other pairings as I don't want that to influence whether or not you continue to read this story. If you really MUST know, leave it in a review, and I'll gladly reply and tell you. :)

Enjoy!

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_Prologue_

Three days. It had been three whole days since he defeated Voldemort when the Ministry had rounded on him. They had given him three days to recover. Three days to cope. Three days to mourn…

"Three fucking days, Shacklebolt," Harry growled at the Auror, slamming his hands on the kitchen table at the Burrow. The conversations being held outside at the luncheon after Fred's funeral quieted; the Boy-Who-Lived was finally losing it.

"I understa--"

"Do you? Do you really?!" Harry ran a frustrated hand through his hair, gripping the locks and pulling lightly. "I just sacrificed seven years of my life fighting a fight I didn't choose for myself. My parents, my godfather, his friends, my friends—my _childhood_ is gone. It was gone the moment that prophecy was created," Harry's voice was dangerously quiet as he glowered at the newly appointed Minister of Magic. His gaze worsened when he saw the pity in Shacklebolt's eyes, and he raised his voice as he continued, "And when it's finally over—when I finally get a sense of bloody normalcy in my life—the Ministry gives me three bloody days before you drag me off into another fight that's not mine? Three days?"

"Harry… Listen, the Ministry needs--"

"_Everyone_," he enunciated the word, pounding his fists onto the table at each different syllable, "has needs. But have you ever given a bloody thought about _mine_?" Kingsley was silent, and that was all that Harry needed. He put a hand to his head, rubbing his left temple in an attempt to rid himself of the migraine he was suffering from. "Go away, Kingsley. The Ministry got along fine before Voldemort; it'll get along fine after him," he crossed his arms and walked outside stiffly. Almost immediately the conversation picked up as everyone tried to pretend not to have heard.

"Harry!" Kingsley called out the back door. "How can you be so selfish?" Harry stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face him. His face was red with anger, and his green eyes flashed at the taller man.

"What did you say?"

"The Ministry needs a leader, Harry--"

"And they bloody have you!" Harry roared. "The last connection with my parents is gone! His wife went with him and my godson's an orphan! My best mate's older brother is dead and we _watched_ him die! If there's anywhere I 'need' to be, Kingsley, it's _here_," he gestured about him wildly, his eyes softening as he looked from Weasley to Weasley solemnly. He slowly turned back to Kingsley and whispered, "with my family." He looked at Mrs. Weasley when he said it, but looked away quickly out of embarrassment. Perhaps they didn't consider him family, but…

"Harry, I understand that you need time," Kingsley said gently, and Harry visibly flinched at the amount of pity in his voice, "but time is the one thing the Ministry doesn't have. Everyone's scared, Harry," he said, turning to look from face to face, "but you… you are their hero—their savior. They look up to you, and they need you now to lead them out of this. Harry--"

"Kingsley," Mrs. Weasley warned, looking at Harry who seemed fit for bursting. Her voice quavered, slightly, as she continued. "Come back tomorrow. Harry will still be here, I'm sure, and you can discuss this then." It wasn't a request, nor a statement; it was her subtle plea. Kingsley set his jaw and nodded. With a _crack_ he was gone. Mrs. Weasley nodded stiffly, "Sit, Harry."

He shook his head, looking back where Shacklebolt had just been standing and sighed. He moved towards the only empty seat at the far end of the table, directly across from George. He sat down next to Ron, who looked stricken from what had just been said. Hermione placed a hand on his shoulder and smiled sadly at Harry. Harry merely nodded in her direction, and looked at Ginny who was seated next to George. She avoided his eyes, staring at her empty plate instead.

"Tuck in, everyone!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed, sniffing. Harry wasn't hungry; however, he helped himself to the food only so they wouldn't make a fuss. Conversation had picked up at the other end of the table. Percy and Charlie were taking turns filling in the family on what they plan to do after everything has settled down while Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were listening intently, and Fleur was attempting to console an oddly quiet Bill.

On Harry's end, however, it couldn't be any more awkward. George was staring off into space, and hadn't moved since Harry had joined them. Ron and Hermione seemed to be having a quiet argument over something, and Ginny was refusing to meet Harry's eye.

"Fine," Ron huffed to a triumphant Hermione, glowering at her before turning back to his lunch. Harry quirked a brow at his friends, but said nothing. "'Mione and me," Ron finally muttered in between bites, "are taking night classes at the Ministry so we can take our N.E.W.T.s in August…"

"Good idea," Harry muttered back, "but I'm not interested if that's where you were going with it."

"But I thought you wanted to be an Auror--"

"I do, and I got enough O.W.L.s to get into training," Harry reasoned. He offered Ron a small smile, "I just want a break, Ron… don't get on my case, too."

"All right, all right," Ron sighed, turning to Hermione with a shrug. Harry rolled his eyes and turned towards Ginny who finally looked at him. His smile grew, but she shook her head and looked back down at her plate. Harry turned to George, who still looked lost.

"You all right, George?" Harry asked tentatively. A rather unfeminine snort resounded from beside him, and he turned to see Ginny staring at him incredulously.

"Did you really just ask him that?" Ginny said, her voice mirroring her disbelief. "How do you _think_ he feels? Honestly--"

George held up a hand to silence her before offering Harry a shrug. "He's just--" He paused for a long moment before his eyes welled up. He hung his head, "trying to make conversation." His voice broke, as—for the first time in his entire life—he had to finish his own sentence.

"Still," Ginny insisted, "there are other things to talk about."

"Gin," Ron warned, looking at her closely. She turned away from all of them, and moved to start a conversation with Bill who had been oblivious to the previous proceedings. Ron turned to Harry and quirked a brow in an obvious question of 'What did you do', but Harry didn't answer him immediately. He rolled his eyes and turned to his untouched food. "What did you do?" Ron hissed at him moments later, impatience setting in.

"Nothing, drop it."

"Talk to her," Ron said in, what Harry assumed, was his 'authoritative' tone.

"I was going to anyways, so sod off," Harry muttered, and Ron seemed to appreciate that answer because he let it drop. He turned to Hermione.

"So, we'll go tomorrow, then?" He resumed their previous private conversation. "Be back on Sunday for class?"

"Go where?" Harry asked curiously.

"Australia… to get my parents," Hermione said softly, an apologetic look on her face. "Ron wasn't even supposed to come; he sort of forced his way into the situation."

"Don't worry," Harry offered a small, fake smile. "I'll be here when you come back." Ron and Hermione smiled.

"Where would you go?" Ron joked, and Harry awkwardly laughed.

The rest of the luncheon went off without a hitch, yet Ginny still refused to look or talk to Harry. Ron and Hermione went to bed early; they had to fly to Australia due to the distance, and their flight was rather early. Mr. Weasley also went to bed early. George holed himself up in his room directly after excusing himself from the table. Charlie, Bill and Percy talked over firewhiskey in the kitchen, and after turning down their offer to join them; Harry found Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, and Fleur talking in the living room.

"Gin," he whispered to her, breaking up the conversation. "I'm going for a walk."

"Are you asking permission?" She asked smartly with a smirk.

"No," Harry glowered. "I'm asking for company." Her smirk persisted, but she excused herself from her mother and sister-in-law anyway. They walked in silence out the back door and into the garden. They reached the pond and sat in an awkward silence for what felt like an eternity. Finally, he broke it, "Ron and Hermione are leaving tomorrow…"

"I know," she said just as quietly. "Hermione told me."

"Ah…" Harry made no move to continue the conversation, but when she didn't either he took a deep breath and began. "Ginny--"

"Harry, look," she didn't seem able to hold it back anymore. "I understand what you did and why you did it," she said sympathetically. "And I know that the world still needs you--"

"And I'm turning them down!" Harry pleaded, exasperated.

"And it's inevitable that you _will_ help them," she said softly; she reached up and affectionately touched his hair, "it's your nature." Her voice was so soft, now, that he was straining to hear her; her eyes were firmly looking over his shoulder, yet he persisted in trying to get her to look at him. She sighed and continued, moving her eyes to stare at her shoes, "And those days… weeks… months that you deny them will be amazing. Bust as soon as you go, I'll be waiting all over again. The world will _never_ be rid of evil, Harry," she whispered, finally looking at him. "And I don't want to spend the rest of my life waiting."

"What are you saying?" He asked stupidly, dumbstruck by this revelation. She shook her head and smiled, leaning up to kiss him softly. She broke away before he could deepen it, and she finally looked him in the eye.

"G'bye, Harry," she said quietly, moving away quickly. She went back into the house, leaving him alone and confused. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, wishing more than ever that he never wanted to be the hero ever again.

He sat down on the edge of the small dock, his feet dangling over the side. His trainers were barely grazing the water and he stared down at them. He bit his lip—could it really be over… just like that? No warning or anything—just one of the best things to ever happen to Harry over. It finally hit him like being woken up by a bucket of freezing cold water. He stood up abruptly, turning around to go back inside when he came face to face with Luna Lovegood. He started, slightly, and if it hadn't been for the fact that she caught his arm, he would've falled into the small pond. He stabilized himself on the dock, all the while staring at her. "Hello, Harry," she said brightly.

"What're you doing here?" He asked, catching his breath from his little scare. She smiled.

"Saying good-bye," she said quietly, her blue eyes sparkling in the moonlight.

"You're leaving, too?" He was getting frustrated; what was the point in him staying if no one else was?

"Yes," her smile widened. "I'm going in searching of the hugging haliglows." She looked at Harry excitedly, "They hug their victims into suffucation, but their crushed bones are essential in most heart calming potions."

"Gave up on the Crumple-Horned Snorckacks?" Harry lightly teased as they walked to the Burrow together.

"My father was a very smart man, Harry, but not a very wise one," she told him simply as she walked inside the kitchen. Frowning, he followed her. Ginny was sitting at the kitchen table, reading over some summer work while she sipped a cup of tea. She looked up as Luna came in and raised a brow at Harry's appearance afterwards. "Good bye, Gin!" Luna said cheerfully.

"Don't you mean hello?" Ginny asked with a friendly smile, her eyes still on Harry however. He shrugged and motioned for her to look at Luna. She regarded the laughing Ravenclaw a bit reproachfully.

"No—it's just like what I was telling Harry," she said, smiling warmly, "I'm leaving tomorrow, and I've come to say good-bye."

"Oh, well, I'll see you at school, then!" She smiled, but it wavered when Luna laughed again.

"I'm not going back, silly!" She smiled warmly, "I'm taking over the Quibbler! Father's deciding to retire, as he's always wanted to, and he's passing it on to me… You know, it must've been hard for him to continue on after… well, me being… well, anyway… I'm taking over the Quibbler," she finished simply, sitting in a chair across from Ginny.

"Oh, I see." Ginny seemed rather upset by this news, but attempted to put on a bright exterior, however. "Maybe you could visit me at Hogsmeade."

Luna shrugged, "I could try, but I suspect I will be rather busy." She leaned in and lowered her voice to a whisper, "There have been numerous spottings of the elusive Nessilive Sea Monster."

Both Harry and Ginny humored her with a smile, but Luna was oblivious, glancing around the room as if looking for something. "Where's Ron and Hermione?" She finally asked.

"Sleeping," Ginny smiled. "They're leaving tomorrow, too."

"Oh. Well… maybe I could owl them," Luna smiled, turning back. "Well, I got to go… I still need to pack my Nargle nets."

"Do you want to use our floor?"

"Oh, no, I quite prefer walking. Who knows—perhaps I'll see a Star-light stank," Luna smiled, waving cheerfully. "Good-bye!"

Ginny sent Harry a look, and he rolled his eyes.

"Let me walk you home, Luna."

"Oh, you don't have to," Luna said as she opened the kitchen door. Harry stood up and smiled.

"No—I'll walk you home and apparate back."

"Well, if you insist," she shrugged, waving at Ginny again. He held the door open for her, and she walked out. He sighed and followed her into the garden. She was watching him curiously as she waited by the gate. He caught up with her, and he noticed her stare. He felt suddenly self-conscious, and it worsened once she verbalized her thoughts, "You and Ginny aren't dating anymore."

It wasn't a question, simply a statement. Harry blushed, slightly, raising a perplexed brow. "How'd you--"

"Ron and Hermione are leaving—without you," another blunt statement. "So… what are _you_ doing?"

He walked out the gate, and she followed, falling into step with him as he avoided the question. "What do you mean?"

She didn't say anything for a while, and they were engulfed in an awkward silence. Just as he was about to reiterate his question, she answered. "Everyone is moving on. What are _you_ doing?"

"I still don't--"

"The Ministry needs you, no doubt," she eyed him up quietly. "But you've turned them down… yes, you'd be there if they had convinced you." He didn't say anything, so she continued, assuming that she must've been right. "No doubtedly, you turned them down to spend time with the Weasleys," she said simply, brilliant blue eyes scanning the landscape around them, "but they all seem devoted to spending time without you," she smiled cheerfully at him. "So…"

"So?"

"So," she giggled, as if it was obvious, "what are you going to do?"

He was quiet for a moment, pondering all she had just said. "How—how did you know all that?" She looked at him seriously.

"It's easy to listen when people pretend you aren't there," she shrugged. "And when you are always listening, you pick up some things."

"Like what?"

"Oh, well," she looked around happily, "like when you," she looked at him pointedly, "don't want to answer a question, you ask another and hope I simply," she threw her hands into the air with a laugh. "Forget!"

Harry blushed, but didn't answer her. She smiled knowingly, "You can't stay because the Ministry will hound you… but you have no where to go…" She let it hang in the air as she glanced around their surroundings again. He was about to venomously reply that not only could he handle the ministry, but that he had _plenty_ of places to go before he deemed it useless; Luna could and would see right through it. He sighed.

"Any suggestions?" He muttered quietly as they came upon her house. She walked through the gate, and turned to him with a smile.

"Come with me."

"Er--?" His jaw dropped slightly and he stared at her incredulously. Her smile persisted.

"It's very laid back, you see, and far away from here," her smile grew. "And it shouldn't be long; like I said, there have been many sea monster sightings recently."

"Luna--" Harry began to protest, but she caught him off guard when she laughed.

"C'mon, Harry… what else are you going to do?"

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_There you go!_

_Love it? Hate it? Let me have it:) _


	2. Of New Beginnings with old friends

**Disclaimer: Everything recognizable is owned by J.K. Rowling, and I am not making a profit by writing this story.**

**Author's Notes:** Sorry for the delay in posting. In short, I moved and couldn't get to a computer for the longest time... I'm sure I lost readers, but I love this story so much, it doesn't bother me that much.

**Rating:** I've updated it to M due to language. I use "fuck" way too many times for any young reader to be reading this story.

**Pairings: **Ron/Hermione, Friendship!-Harry/Hermione, and this story will later focus on the Harry/Luna pairing.

This chapter picks up on the day Harry returns from his three-month long trip with Luna.

Enjoy!_

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_

Chapter One:  
Of new beginnings with old friends…

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Mrs. Weasley had looked like a porcelain doll when he had walked into the Burrow that night. She was sitting at the table with a steaming cup of tea in her hands, but her eyes remained focused on the Grandfather clock, now covered in an old school robe. Her hair was disheveled and her clothing was in disarray. At first Harry thought she hadn't noticed him, but as soon as the door clicked shut, she winced.

"Hello, Harry, dear," she said softly, flicking her wand to the kettle on the stove. "Would you like a cup of tea?" He smiled, sitting down across from her. She levitated the now-full cup towards him, and he readily accepted it.

"Hi, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said softly. "Sorry it's so late—we just got back, and—"

"How _was_ your trip?" She interrupted, taking a sip, her eyes still on the clock. Harry blinked, taking a glance at it as well, before looking back at Mrs. Weasley.

"Exhausting."

"Really?" She said, attempting to appear enthusiastic, but her voice revealing her true intentions. "How so?"

"We walked everywhere… never apparated, rarely used magic," Harry said, watching her carefully. "Are—are you all right, Mrs. Weasley?"

"'m fine, Harry, dear," she said quietly, sipping her tea. She chanced a glance at him and offered him a tight-lipped smile. "Never used magic? Weren't you searching for magical creatures?" Again the feigned interest was tearing Harry apart, but he persisted with her façade.

"Well," Harry chuckled, once more glancing at the clock, "Luna often gave some of the already-known creatures 'special' names… for example, the hugging haliglow is the same as a common boa constric—Mrs. Weasley, are you sure you're--?"

"Harry," she persisted, finally turning to look at him. "I'm fine. Ginny's fine. Ron's fine. Hermione's fine… we're all '_fine_', Harry…" She whispered lowly, bending to look at him. "And as far as I'm concerned, _you_ are _more_ than fine, but there are some things you need to know."

"Need to--?"

"Did you _honestly_ think the world would continue spinning with their hero suddenly missing? How did you think it was going to look—Harry Potter _himself_ gives up on the Wizarding World," she said slowly and carefully. She stopped him from jumping into the conversation, however, and continued, "I'm not saying I'm agreeing with them, Harry, but… the world isn't the same as how you've left it—if anything, it's worse." She looked him over carefully, from his long, unruly hair to the beginnings of a beard on his face. He looked dirty and so much older than he was. She took a deep breath, "But… everything is… your decision, now, and why would I be able to influence it?" She ended on a particularly high pitch, pulling a handkerchief out of mid-air. She dabbed her eyes with it and sighed. "Perhaps I'll just let… Ron and Hermione tell you the rest. Will you be spending the night here? I'm sure they wouldn't mind you flooing into their flat first thing in the morning."

"Flat?"

"Yes," Mrs. Weasley's lips nearly disappeared as she pressed them together so harshly. She dabbed her eyes again. "My little baby moved out and in with… _her_," she balked at Harry's accusing stare. "Don't look at me like that—I love Hermione, but… _oh_, they should be _married_!" She muttered, her whole face disappearing behind the pink handkerchief. "As if it isn't bad enough that this house is a little less full without—without--"

"Molly?"

"Oh, I'm coming, Arthur, I just needed a spot of tea!" She called up the stairs. This seemed to satisfy Mr. Weasley, who didn't come calling again. She sighed and attempted to regain her composure. She looked at Harry again. "I know you didn't ask for this dearie, and I know this is the last thing you wanted to hear from anyone, but…" She glanced at the clock again before looking back at him. "…the world needs someone like you, Harry, and no one is too pleased that you left. Know that you will always have supporters, but… just… just know that right now… right now they're just not the majority."

She stood up abruptly, as if remembering something. She moved towards the wastebasket and picked up an old newspaper. She sniffed down at him and smiled. "Here you are, dear… Just… remember what I said, all right?" She moved towards the stairs. "And don't stay up too late!" She called, halfway up the stairs. He smiled, but it faltered upon reading the headline:

The Boy-Who-Ran-Away Will Harry be remembered for his bravery, or cowardice? 

_Article by Rita Skeeter_

_Page 4 for full coverage._

"Mrs. Weasley!" He hissed up the stairs. He got up from his seat and moved towards them. "Mrs. Weasley!" He said, a little louder. Her head appeared around the corner a moment later, and he sighed. "What's Ron and Hermione's address?"

She smiled sadly at him for a moment, before nodding. "Flat 6C Botts Building. Password is… oh, goodness—phlegm. Yes, that's it. Phlegm."

"Phlegm?" Harry repeated, and Mrs. Weasley offered him a tiny smile.

"Yes, well, Ginny came up with it and… Fleur had made her a little upset, I suppose. Something about baby-showers and wedding bells… I don't know," she said, her mind obviously elsewhere. "Shall you be here for supper tomorrow?" He nodded and she smiled genuinely. "Welcome back, Harry… and the invitation for the night is still available if you find… less accommodating hosts."

He was about to question her again, but her head disappeared into the darkness, and he was very much alone. He sighed. "Flat 6C Botts Building," he repeated it over and over to himself as he walked to the fireplace. He picked up a handful of the shimmering powder and threw it into the dying embers. Immediately they burst into large emerald flames, and he stepped inside. "Flat 6C Botts Building!" He shouted and he was gone before one could blink.

* * *

He landed in a small, dark room with a single light on the far wall. He walked towards it, wand at the ready as he went. Upon reaching it, he saw a statue—much like the gargoyles in front of the Head Master's office at Hogwarts—holding a candlelit lantern. The gargoyle remained stoic, and Harry quirked his head to the side. 

"Phlegm?" he questioned the beast, whose face contorted into a smile. He stepped aside, a hand grabbing the wall behind him. He pulled, causing the wall pull apart like curtains in front of a window, and Harry stepped inside Ron and Hermione's flat. He turned around and faced a brick wall. He turned back around and realized he was standing in the fireplace, and a very frightened red head was staring at him. Harry stepped out into the near-darkness and whispered, "Lumos." His wand tip illuminated and the room seemed a little less dreary. He was able to look the man in the eye, and his expression softened. "George?"

The look of intense surprise didn't falter from George's face; if anything, it heightened upon Harry speaking. "Harry Potter?" He questioned quietly, his hoarse voice cutting through the tension-filled silence. Harry nodded, and George paled. "I-I should… Ron!" He called suddenly, moving for the stairs. "RON!"

Thunderous footsteps erupted from upstairs, and Harry winced upon hearing Hermione's frantic calls of, "Ron, what's going on--?"

"George!" Ron called back, although he quieted after Hermione's initial calls. "George, what is it?" Ron asked, stepping into the room, not quite seeing Harry yet in the dark. "George—is it another nightmare? Do you want a--" He stopped upon finally noticing Harry—the only source of light in the room. He, like George, paled considerably upon the sight of Harry. "Harry?" Ron questioned quietly, grabbing his own wand out of his pajama pant pocket. "Lumos!" He nearly shouted, taking cautious steps towards Harry. "Harry Potter, you sodding wanker!" He said upon seeing Harry clearly. He glowered something horribly, looking back at George. "You woke me up for _this_?"

"'Scuse me for not knowing what to do with him," George muttered darkly, walking into the kitchen. There was a _click _and the room filled with light. Both boys turned to see Hermione standing on the stairs, arm crossed with Ron's Deluminator in one hand.

"Hello, Harry," she said somewhat cheerfully. She tossed the Deluminator to Ron and sighed. "Well—aren't you going to offer him something to drink?" Ron opened and closed his mouth a few times before he set his jaw and turned to Harry. If looks could kill, Harry would've been dead three times over, but Ron still managed to contain his fury and simply jerk his head in the direction of the kitchen. They walked together into the tiny room to find George sitting on the counter eating a bowl of cereal. He moved over on the counter and patted the place beside him in a mocking fashion. Ron chuckled slightly, offering his older brother a smirk before he sat himself down. Hermione rolled her eyes at their antics and motioned for Harry to sit with her at the table. She flicked her wand towards the kettle on the stove, and it filled with water and began to heat.

"So," George started softly, taking a bite out of his cereal and staring at Harry expectantly.

"So?" Confused, Harry asked looking from one person to the next.

"So," Ron said, his voice revealing his obvious attempts to control his anger, "you leave for three bloody months with nothing but a fucking note?"

"That's what you're angry about? That I left without saying good-bye or telling you my plans?" Harry asked, laughing off the situation completely. He heard Hermione moan beside him and he looked up to see Ron fuming.

"Yeah, a 'good-bye, thanks for spending the past year with me' would've been nice, but an 'I'm going on a vacation with a girl the day after your baby sister broke up with me' would've sufficed," Ron spat. Hermione sent him a warning look, which he ignored immediately and continued, "What the hell were we supposed to think? I get a bloody note on my pillow saying you were going to be gone for who-knows-how-long with bloody Loony Luna!"

"She's not as crazy as you think!" Harry insisted, and Hermione snorted.

"C'mon, Harry, she's led you on a three-month-long goose-chase," she said, standing up as the kettle screamed. "Or did you really find the elusive Crumple-Horned Snorcacks?"

"We weren't looking for those—we found so much more!" Harry insisted, standing up abruptly. "Besides, who are you two to talk—you left for Australia without a fleeting thought about me."

"We told you we were going!"

"The day before!" Harry insisted, glaring at Ron. Ron glowered back.

"Least we had the nerve to say it in person."

"You really wanted me to wake you up at three in the morning the day you were supposed to go to Australia on an extra-long flight?" Harry challenged, but Ron quickly dodged it with a change of subject.

"What about Ginny?"

"What about her?" Harry asked, laughing. "She's the one who broke up with me—or do you just prefer to overlook that matter? Merlin knows it has to be my fault that we broke up."

"Was it?" George asked quietly, looking at Harry from over his cereal bowl. Harry sighed.

"Not intentionally," he said softly, and Ron snorted. Harry glared, "What?"

"That means you said or did something accidentally to fuck it up, but you've fucked it up none-the-less."

"You're impossible!"

"No, Harry, you are," Ron said in a dangerous tone of voice. "Leaving with one of Ginny's best friends not even twelve hours after she broke up with you left her heartbroken and torn up for weeks. Hermione and I delayed our plans to make sure she didn't do something incredibly stupid. We waited for you to come back and say that you were sick of Luna's antics or that you had had enough camping on the Horcrux hunts, but we got nothing. And the worst part, by far, was the fact that we couldn't even owl you because you were so fucking inconsiderate enough that you put an anti-owl charm on yourselves." Harry looked away, realizing how horrible it all sounded as soon as Ron said it. He looked down at his hands as he felt the silent wrath of Ron's glare. "Guess where they came next?"

Harry didn't even have to ask. Ron had grabbed him and yanked him in the direction of the stairs. He dragged Harry up them and pushed him into a small room. He flicked on the lights and growled, "Here."

Harry's jaw dropped as he looked around the room; envelopes of all colors, shapes and sizes were in piles around the otherwise bare room. Ron pulled him in one direction, pointing to the second-largest pile in the far right corner. "Fan letters," he said. "Those ones are true admirers, those ones are letters of undying love," he said, pointing to the corresponding piles. He landed on the largest, "And these… these are borderline stalkers."

"You read my mail?" Harry said angrily, turning to glare at Ron. He shrugged with a sneer nearly as condescending as Malfoy's gracing his lips.

"Someone had to, and Merlin knows you weren't here to," he said simply, pulling Harry to another pile. "Ministry letters—those want your help, those want interviews, and those are party invitations… if you feel up to it, there's one tomorrow night," he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Letters from Hogwarts requesting your help in the clean up," he said, and so on they went around the room, all the while the anger building up in Harry. Finally, they landed on the largest pile, and Harry gritted his teeth in annoyance.

"And this one?" He spat, glaring at Ron. Ron glowered right back.

"Those are all of our letters… sent back unanswered. Don't worry—I didn't need to read those ones… after all, I fucking wrote them."

"Ron, you're not even bloody listening!" Harry followed Ron as he left Harry alone in the room suddenly. Ron waved him off with a hand, moving back down to the kitchen. "You were leaving. Luna was leaving. Your sister left me—I had no place to go, no one to talk to!" Harry said, finally coming upon Ron in the kitchen. George had seemingly disappeared, and Hermione was sipping tea at the table, looking out the window. She didn't even move when they had walked in, and Harry was reminded horribly of Mrs. Weasley at the Burrow.

"When we had gotten to Australia you could've owled us—we didn't put charms on us!" Ron spat angrily, crossing his arms.

"And how long would those letters have taken to get to you?"

"Not the point--!"

"It's the ONLY point!" Harry yelled, frustrated. Hermione shushed him, suddenly, glowering at him.

"George is in the guest bedroom—he just got to sleep. If you want to shout, at least have the decency to put up a silencing charm," she whispered. Harry hung his head, while Ron flicked his wand around.

"Still… there's always the international floo!"

"They'd still have had to connect Hermione's parents' house up, and that could've taken weeks!" Harry insisted. "Don't you see how irrational you're being right now?"

"Me--? Me--!" Ron stuttered, his ears flushing a purplish-red.

"Who else could I be talking about?" Harry roared, slamming his fist on the table. Hermione stood up abruptly and stomped further into the kitchen.

"You're both being irrational right now!" She shrieked. Both boys flinched, horrible memories of fourth year rushing through their brains. "Neither of you are thinking about anyone other than yourselves!" She turned to Ron, crossing her arms over her chest, "Do you honestly think Harry would do anything with Luna? Or have you forgotten how much he fancied your sister in school? C'mon, Ron—he went away because he was hurt, not because he wanted to 'fuck' with you." Ron balked at Hermione's cursing, but she had turned her back too quickly to have seen. She unfolded her arms and her face softened, "And, Harry, I understand why you left, but… a letter every once in a while wouldn't have killed you."

Harry sighed, knowing Hermione was right. Ron, however, paled, staring between Harry and Hermione, his eyes widening. Before Harry even knew what happened, Ron had run out of the room as if he had seen a ghost. Moments later a door slammed and Hermione sighed. "Oh, Ron, not now…" she whispered to herself. She moved to go after him, but turned as if she was suddenly remembering that Harry was there. "The couch is free, if you'd wish, but…" she looked back out the door that Ron had disappeared behind.

"I'll be staying at Grimmauld Place," Harry said firmly, moving to walk out of the kitchen as well.

"Are you sure it'll be safe--?"

"Right now I'm so angry that I'd love for someone to try and cross me," Harry muttered darkly, walking to the fire. He paused and turned to ask, "What's with the hidden room and gargoyle?"

Hermione smiled painfully, "Reporters can be very… _horrible_ house-guests." He winced, grabbing a handful of floo powder. "G'night, Harry…"

"G'night," he muttered, throwing in the powder and stepping into the flames.

* * *

He stepped out of the fireplace in the kitchen-basement of Grimmauld Place and sighed. "Incendio!" He muttered, his wand pointing behind him. A fire sprung up from the ashes, illuminating the room. "Lumos," he muttered, using his wand tip to guide him up the stairs through the darkness. His jaw dropped as he came upon the first floor. 

The house was immaculately cleaned; the walls seemed to glow, the floors shined, and the carpet looked new. He couldn't see dust anywhere, or any other trace that this was the Black house. It looked…

It looked like a place Harry might live in permanently.

There were red and gold fabrics covering every table, flowers in vases were placed sporadically about the room. The house-elf heads were gone, along with many other things that he knew were Black-family staples. Out of nowhere, a small bundle of old tea cloths and pillowcases launched himself at Harry and attached himself to his leg.

"Master Harry!" Kreacher said, bowing so low his forehead touched the floor. "Oh, Kreacher is so happy to sees you, Master!" He stood up, beaming, "Does Master Harry approve of his household?"

"Kreacher," Harry bent low to stare the house-elf in the eye. "The name's not 'Master' anything. It's just Harry."

"Yes, sir, just Harry, sir," Kreacher nodded. "Would just Harry like Kreacher to turn down his bed, sir?"

"No, Kreacher… you can just go to bed," Harry smiled, truly happy that Kreacher no longer held… well, anything… over Harry's head. Kreacher nodded, moving towards the broom closet, when Harry stopped him. "Erm… Kreacher—why don't you take Mrs. Black's room?"

"You mean… my old Mistress's--?"

"Yeah… I mean… I'm not going to sleep there…" Harry shrugged. "And I don't see why you should have to--"

Harry didn't get to finish, however, as Kreacher launched himself at Harry's feet squealing his utter jubilation at the suggestion. After about fifteen minutes—and some prying on Harry's part, both Harry and Kreacher were climbing the stairs to sleep in a bed for the first time in a while.

* * *

_To be continued..._

* * *

_Let _me know what you think in a review! 


	3. Of healing, hurting, and moving on

**Author's Notes:** See my previous chapters for the disclaimer. As far as this chapter goes, it's probably my favorite that I've written so far. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

_Of healing, hurting, and moving on..._

* * *

"Harry, he's not the kind of person who can forgive someone so easily," Hermione was telling Harry over breakfast the next morning. Ron had gone to George's flat to help go over some new business ideas. He was helping George restart with the shop, and was even coming up with new ideas for products himself. Harry sighed, sipping his tea. 

"I know, but... you'd think that he'd have gotten over this whole thing after we talked last night," Harry ran a hand through his hair and Hermione winced.

"Are you going to cut your hair?" She asked suddenly, and Harry outwardly laughed.

"Merlin," Harry sighed, tugging at the long locks, "I haven't cut my hair since sixth year… didn't really have much time in between…" Hermione smiled, sipping her tea gingerly. "So, how're your parents?"

"They… were upset at first," she said softly, the smile fading from her face. "Which was to be expected," she added thoughtfully. "Then they realized that I had done it for their own good, and so on," she waved her hand dismissively. "Then after realizing that they both had stable jobs and a wonderful new atmosphere, they decided to stay in Australia!" She laughed, and Harry joined her after. "They had talked about moving somewhere warmer for retirement, but Australia?" She shook her head, delving into her eggs. She pushed them around her plate thoughtfully for a moment before looking up curiously at Harry. "And… your trip with Luna?"

"Eventful, actually," Harry sighed, leaning back in his chair. He looked around the muggle restaurant Hermione had chosen and smiled. "After I realized that the 'magical' animals we were looking for were actually muggle animals with fancier names, it wasn't so bad. The experiments were interesting enough, but," he broke off, shrugging his shoulders. "I never _was_ too interested in potions." Hermione snorted, before she smiled.

"That's an understatement," she quipped, and he playfully glared at her.

"Come off it," he fired back, and she smiled. "Well, she's publishing her findings in the Quibbler—she's really going to bring it around, you know? Has all these big plans—more investigative reporting, and less of the-the—"

"Garbage?" Hermione offered with a knowing smirk. Harry shook his head.

"Yeah, I suppose… the garbage her father published," he finished off his coffee and sighed. "She's really going to be successful, you know? And she—if anyone—deserves every bit of it."

"Yes, I suppose," Hermione said, pressing her lips together thoughtfully. She regarded Harry carefully for a moment, and he knew what was coming.

"Nothing happened, Hermione."

"Oh, that really wasn't what I was worried about," Hermione said softly, quirking her head to the side to regard Harry again. "I was more… in question of whether or not the fact that nothing happened bothered you…"

"Why would it?" Harry accused. She held her hands up defensively.

"Well," she paused, truly thinking about how to appropriately answer, "let me simply say this—both you and Luna are a bit stupidly oblivious to everything around you, and are thus more susceptible to being hurt."

"I am not oblivious to everything around me!" Harry defended, and Hermione chuckled softly.

"You came into mine and Ron's home expecting everything to go back to normal even after Mrs. Weasley warned you!" She shook her head, "Please don't insult my intelligence by saying that doesn't make you a little oblivious."

"Well… fine," Harry muttered, closing his eyes and sighing. "But… still, I don't ever think I could possibly have feelings for Luna. She's a little… different, don't you think?"

"Different is putting it politely, Harry," Hermione snorted, standing up. "Well, I have to go to an interview again," she sighed, rummaging around in her bag. She produced the appropriate amount of money and placed it on the table. "Will you be coming to the Burrow tonight?"

"Would that be wise?" Harry asked, and Hermione smiled.

"No, but it _would_ be nice," she offered. He sighed and nodded. "Good. I'll warn Ron and such… See you later, Harry," she waved, and exited the restaurant, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

He stood up and left as well, wincing as his body hit the cool September air. He sighed and thought about where to go, his green eyes scanning the London streets. There was an alley to his right and he decided that he would apparate from there. He walked all the way to the end before disapparating with a crack.

He appeared moments later in front of the Three Broomsticks and quickly pulled the hood up on his sweatshirt. Not wanting to be seen so quickly, he placed a disillusioning charm on himself. He walked briskly through the gates of Hogwarts and moved around the lawns up towards the castle. Perhaps he could answer those letters in person.

The closer he came to the castle, the more he saw of the true state it was in. Nothing had been done to fix the walls or the turrets that had been damaged. The grounds looked better, but they still weren't up to par. Avoided the large holes made by the giant's feet, his eyes wide and his jaw open. He climbed up the stairs and into the school.

Once inside he took off the disillusionment charm as he realized that no one was in the school anymore. There were no children roaming the halls, and there didn't seem to be a teacher in sight. Harry turned to leave when someone called his name.

"Harry Potter!"

He turned to see Nearly Headless Nick swooping towards him with a warm smile. "Oh, how good it is to see you once more!" He was moving around Harry, his head bobbing from side to side dangerously. Harry managed a small smile in response.

"How have you been?" He asked conversationally, looking around at the ruins of Hogwarts. Nick pushed away the question.

"Can't kill me twice, can you?" He chuckled, swooping down to be next to Harry. "Well, what brings you to my… _humble_ home?" He looked around disdainfully.

"I'm looking for Professor McGonagall—"

"Oh, you mean 'Ministress McGonagall'," Nick groaned. "Don't get me started. Ever since the request letters have started pouring in that's all we ever hear about," he clucked his tongue. "Not to mention that the recruits to rebuild the castle are lacking…"

"Lacking?"

"Not too many people know the sort of spells required to rebuild the castle," he said, leading Harry towards the Headmaster's office. "And those that do are simply… busy," he shrugged. "After last year, many of the parents believed that school wasn't safe enough anyway… no doubt most children are being home schooled, although—rumor has it—Beauxbaton's and Durmstrang's numbers are through the roof," he sighed, leaning closer to Harry. "It's a pity… the password's _Albus_."

"Albus?" Harry questioned, and the gargoyle leapt aside. Harry turned to Nick and smiled. "I'm sorry, you know," he offered sincerely. Nick nodded, his head swiveling something awful.

"Everyone is… but what's to be done about it? See you around," he sighed, disappearing through a wall. Harry turned his direction to the spiraling staircase around him. In no time at all he reached McGonagall's office and tentatively knocked.

"Come in, come in—who is it?" He heard her frantically call. Harry walked in on a sight he'd never thought he'd see. McGonagall was frazzled; her hair was a mess on the top of her head, and he clothes were wrinkled. She was pacing her office, her brows furrowed in deep concentration. She turned to see Harry and her jaw dropped. She regained composure and managed to look like her normal self.

"And where the hell have you been?" She accused, her eyes piercing through Harry's. He balked, and she smirked. "Come, sit," she ushered him into a chair, opening up a container and thrusting it under his nose. "Biscuit."

"No, thank you."

"No. Take one, Potter, it wasn't a question," she said, placing them on the desk and moving about. She sat down and leant forward, taking in his appearance. "So… vacation wasn't as relaxing as you had hoped?"

"It wasn't a vacation," Harry said, shrugging. "I went on a scientific research trip with Luna Lovegood." McGonagall snorted, and Harry quirked a brow. She waved him on and he sighed. "So… Hogwart's has closed?"

"Not permanently—why does everyone think it's going to permanently close?" She sighed, resting her head in her hands. "I have so many grieving families wishing for me to never rebuild—that it should be a monument to their loved one's sacrifice," she thrusted a hand to the side, "then I have the same amount of other parents begging for the school to reopen so their children don't fall behind in their studies! Not to mention that the magic upon this school is so extensive that I barely know how I would rebuild it!" She sighed, leaning back in her chair. "Then there's this whole scandal at the Ministry."

"Scandal?"

"Kingsley wants out—all he wants to do is rebuild his Auror program, but everyone else won't have it. So he told them that if they wanted him Minister, he'd have to be elected, but because he's refusing to run…" she let it hang in the air, still regarding Harry curiously. "So… then they're looking towards me and some other much better candidates—and don't you dare try to say otherwise. I may look young, but I'm a lot older than people give me credit for."

Harry smiled, and McGonagall followed suit. "I would love to help rebuild Hogwart's—I could get Hermione to research some things… We could get started as early as Monday, I'm sure," Harry offered, and McGonagall grinned.

"I was hoping that would be the next thing out of your mouth," she nodded, looking through the many things on her desk. "How come I didn't read about your return in the Prophet?"

"Because it hasn't been publicly announced," Harry shrugged. "Didn't want the extra publicity, you know…" He trailed off and she nodded understandingly.

"Well… publicly announce it and ask for more volunteers," she ordered and Harry was reminiscent of his school years. "If anyone could make this happen, it'd be you."

"You have no idea how tired I am of hearing that, Professor."

* * *

"Ron, come off it—you couldn't expect him to keep his return quiet forever!" Hermione huffed, shaking off his flippant remarks with a wave of her hand. "And he only did it like this because McGonagall asked him to!" She said, tossing the Daily Prophet back at him. Ron glowered down at the smiling face of Harry behind a podium, many different microphones around him as he waved to a crowd of ambitious reporters. 

"How'd you know that?" Ron asked suddenly, his head jerking up to regard her thoughtfully. She glared at him.

"I talk to him, you know—he's still _my_ best friend!"

"Really?" Ron asked, picking up the paper and moving to another page. He folded the paper down carefully and tossed it back at her. "Nothing more?"

There was a picture of Hermione and Harry sitting in a coffee shop in Diagon Alley. Hermione was laughing at something, and Harry was beaming at her. She glared at Ron, slamming her hands down on the kitchen table. "I thought you were over this—this… this _phase_!"

"Phase—? _Phase_!" He stood up too, reaching his full height and towering over her. "Do you know how absolutely hard it is to do anything without being compared to him? Or to one of my brothers?" Ron asked quietly, his blue eyes going steely as he continued to regard Hermione. "Do you know how hard it was to go into a pub to eat lunch with George and get bombarded with questions on how _I_ felt about my two best friends going out? Did _I_ also think they made the most perfect couple—? Was _I_ jealous—?"

"Ron—"

"No, Hermione, just listen," Ron said angrily, running a hand through his hair and sighing. "The reason Harry and I never discuss that locket is because something happened that I… that I couldn't… I-I…"

"That's what your nightmares are about?" She whispered, quirking her head to the side thoughtfully. He nodded, hanging his head low in embarrassment. She smiled encouragingly and continued, "Do… do you want to tell me what happened?"

He paused for the longest time before looking up at her. She withheld her urge to gasp at the frightened look on his face; he looked like he was eleven all over again, about to be crushed by the chess queen in the maze towards the Sorcerer's Stone. "I… I don't think I can, 'Mione," he said softly, sitting down and placing his head in his hands. "Not—not after all of this… I just…"

"I understand," she rushed towards him, placing her arms around his neck. He held onto her tightly, and she rubbed his back.

"It's just… George looked like he wanted to tease me, but… but it's as if he can't anymore," he whispered into her neck. "As if he… doesn't know how—or worse… that he doesn't want to."

"This is the first time I think anyone's ever complained that George wasn't picking on them," Hermione offered lightly, and Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, well… I'm beginning to realize that this year has been a first for everything," he gestured around him vaguely, and she smiled, kissing his forehead. He moved backwards in the chair and pulled her onto his lap. He kissed her softly, pulling away to rest his forehead on hers. "…is it wrong for me to be so angry with him for leaving after—after… after _I_ left?" Ron said so quietly that Hermione nearly missed it. She pulled away, shoving him lightly.

"No one… _no one_ is upset with you for that anymore."

"I still am," he muttered darkly, looking down at his hands resting in her lap. "And Harry was so quick to forgive me, you know? So quick to just… welcome me back. I just don't think I can forgive him so quickly, and I wonder if that makes me—"

"Hypocritical?" Hermione offered, and he glowered. His face softened, though, and he nodded, ashamed. "Only a little," she said quietly, and Ron snorted.

"Thanks, 'Mione," he muttered, and she tilted his chin up so he would look at her.

"You're welcome," she said smartly, and he jerked his head out of her grasp, laughing. "Besides… you both left for very different reasons. Both sets of reasons were particularly stupid, but," she left it hanging in the air, "they're still different. I suppose they would provoke different attitudes as well…"

"So, I'm right—?"

"No one's right," she said, getting up and moving towards the kitchen, "everyone just thinks that they are."

Ron was silent for a long time, finishing up his breakfast. "I'm sending in my application for Auror training," he called to her. She appeared a moment later with a wide smile on her face.

"Are you? Oh, I'm so happy for you!" She squealed, coming up and hugging him.

"Don't be so happy—I haven't been accepted yet," Ron muttered, draining his coffee cup. He winced at Hermione's cold glare.

"And when you are, I will gladly tell you I told you so," she remarked smartly. He rolled his eyes and kissed her cheek. He walked to put his dishes in the sink. "Harry's applying, too," she said softly, half-hoping he didn't hear. The sudden pause in his movements, however, confirmed the fact that he had. He was quiet for but a moment before he began moving again.

"'Course he is, what should we have expected?" He asked, shrugging as he tried to remain indifferent. "But I think he'll find it a little hard to balance saving the world and rebuilding the most magical building in the Wizarding World."

"Ron—"

"Oi—Ronnikins!" George shouted from the fireplace, stepping out and brushing off the soot. "Were you planning on making an appearance at the shop today, or did you just want to sit around and wank all day?"

"Sod off, George, I was coming," Ron muttered darkly, glaring at his older brother with a smile on his face. He sent a glance at Hermione, and she smiled as well.

_So much for him not wanting to tease Ron, _Hermione thought, smiling. Ron came back around and wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her neck. "Be back later," he whispered just below her ear. She smiled.

"Good—I'm cooking your favorite for dinner tonight," she said back.

"Make enough for three," he muttered, squeezing her into a tighter hug. She smiled.

"Always do," she muttered back, watching as George pretended to wretch all over the ground.

"C'mon, Ron, I don't have all bloody day, you know—we're reopening in just a few short weeks!"

"I know, I know," Ron muttered, picking up a thick envelope and handing it to Hermione. "Can you owl this when you meet… _him_… again today?"

"Him?" George quirked his head to the side. "Cheatin' on my little brother, are we?"

Hermione playfully glared at the both of them. "Harry and I are simply friends, and you both know that. Go on—have fun and—"

"Be careful," they finished for her with a smile. She shook her head and made her way into the kitchen as they both flooed back to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.

* * *

"You sent it?" Hermione asked, taking a dainty bite out of her sandwich as she watched Harry warily. Harry nodded, sipping his butterbeer before looking at her, confused. 

"What's that look for?"

"I'm just tired of having to be the in-between person," Hermione sighed, sitting back in her chair. "You and Ron are just too stubborn for your own good, you know?"

"Yes, well… when we're both Aurors I suppose they'll force us into getting along," Harry shrugged, watching her closely. "That's not it, though, is it?"

"Of course not," Hermione muttered, playing around with the food on her plate. "I'm just… worried," she whispered, leaning in closer. "George is… he's… well…"

"Living with you?"

"Actually, no," Hermione leaned back thoughtfully. "He's still living in the flat that he shared with… well, he's still living in the flat above the shop," she shrugged. "We simply have a sort of… well… an open door policy, I suppose," she took a sip of her tea and smiled softly. "He just abuses it."

"Ah," Harry nodded, finishing off his sandwich. "So… you're tired of him abusing your hospitality?"

"No, I'm not tired of George; simply worried about him," she shrugged, furrowing her brows thoughtfully. "Ron is determined that George is refusing to make fun of him."

"Ron's complaining that George isn't picking on him?"

"That's what I said!" Hermione chuckled, before sobering up a bit quickly. "Anyway, Ron's more or less worried that George isn't being himself. I'm starting to notice it, too."

"Well, it's only been three months, Hermione," Harry offered. She shook her head.

"Everyone else seems to be coping—"

"Nobody else lost their _twin_," Harry said simply, shrugging his shoulders. "Sure they lost a son, or a brother, but George lost… a part of him?" He offered, and she accepted it.

"I guess, but—"

"No buts, Hermione," Harry said in a faux-stern voice. She glowered at him and he smiled. "Just… help him out as you have been. I'm sure with the reopening of the joke shop things'll calm down a little bit."

"Well… I suppose."

"Good," Harry said, flagging the waitress over again. "Another butterbeer?" He asked, and she nodded. She paused, though, her eyes briefly going over Harry before an ecstatic smile spread across her face. She withheld any urge to bring attention to Harry, though, and she simply walked away. Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"I thought you'd be used to that by now," Hermione mused, and he glared at her.

"You just wait until she realizes who _you_ are."

"No one cares about Ron and me," she shook her head, smiling. "You're the special one—The-Boy-Who-Defeated-Voldemort."

"Come off it," he groaned, shaking his head. "I get enough of that from everyone else—besides, there's something I really need to talk to you about."

"Really?"

"Yes," he nodded at the waitress who brought his butterbeer, and she smiled as if he had offered to marry her. He rolled his eyes and opened the bottle. "Anyway, McGonagall wants help rebuilding Hogwarts…"

"I know, I saw the article in the Prophet—"

"Let me finish," he cut her off, and she looked apologetic. He smiled. "The problem is that the magic surrounding that school is very… extensive and old," he said, frowning. "She doesn't even know what the founders used…"

"What makes you so sure I'll know?"

"Because it's you, Hermione!" Harry laughed, sipping his butterbeer. "Besides—if anyone is so keen on research, it's you!"

"So… what are you saying?"

"The rebuilding starts on Monday, do you think you could figure it out by then?"

"Harry… that's in two days!"

"I know, I know," he offered, motioning with his hands to calm her down. "But really—if there's anyone who could do it, it's you."

"Well, then," she stood up and grabbed her cloak, "I suppose I better get started."

Harry smiled as she walked out of the door before realizing she had left him with the check. "Bloody know-it-all…" He muttered, fishing out the proper amount out of his pockets before leaving the pub as well.

* * *

"Harry!" 

He turned around from his position at the kitchen counter at Grimmauld Place, where he had been eating cereal and reading the Daily Prophet. He smiled upon seeing Hermione, and she obviously brightened at his appearance as well. "Ready to work?" He asked her, jokingly. She rolled her eyes.

"Surprisingly, yes," she beamed at him, taking out Hogwarts: A History. He rolled his eyes.

"Don't tell me…"

"Yes, Harry! The answers were right in here!" She turned the book to the side so he could see all the pages she had marked. "Well… not entirely in here, but there were various clues."

"Clues?"

"Nicholas Flammel—remember him?" Harry nodded, so she continued, "He was old enough that the true history of how Hogwarts was created was still new news." She reached into her purse and pulled out a thicker novel. "He mentioned much of it in his work," she motioned to the large book, which also had immeasurable amounts of pages marked. "And his work alluded to others' work," she continued pulling out large texts, an obvious show of her research over the past two days, "which I was able to decipher and translate into this!" She pulled out a stack of paper which was heavily highlighted and written on, "Which is all the spellwork needed to rebuild the castle!"

Harry's jaw was on the ground at this point, his eyes bulging out of his head as he stared at her incredulously. He hadn't been expecting her to have come up with nothing, but he was entirely unprepared for this massive feat of research and work. She smirked smugly at him, but he returned the favor as she failed to hide a large yawn.

"Haven't slept?" He teased lightly, and she glowered.

"No, I haven't," she said simply, looking at him as if she wanted him to challenge her. "Still, it's all going towards the greater good, so what difference does a few less hours of sleep at night?" She collapsed into a chair and Harry gestured to the pantry as a silent offer of food. She shook her head. "Already had breakfast," she said dismissively. "But do you have any coffee?"

"Not the coffee type, I'm afraid," Harry shrugged, moving to sit at the table with her. "Maybe we could stop at one of those muggle places before apparating to Hogsmeade," he offered, and she accepted it with a nod. He finished up his breakfast and placed the bowl in the sink. "Care to go?"

"Thought you'd never ask," she murmured, packing up her research and moving towards the door. They walked away from Grimmauld Place in silence. Hermione was obviously knackered, and Harry didn't seem to be in much of a talking mood himself.

"Haven't gotten my reply from the Ministry yet… application said it shouldn't take more than three days," he said quietly after a while, squinting up at the sky. It was bright and sunny outside, the warm weather a feat in the middle of September. Hermione shrugged.

"And it's only been two. Don't worry, Ron hasn't gotten a reply either," she offered consolingly, stepping into the coffee shop on the corner. She offered him a small, reassuring smile before walking up to the counter to place her order. Somehow this news had only made Harry feel worse. What if he got accepted and Ron didn't? He didn't see Ron forgiving him now, and he doubted Ron would forgive him after being accepted and not even taking his N.E.W.T.'s. He wasn't left with much time to ponder it, however, as Hermione reappeared.

"C'mon, let's get moving… I'm sure McGonagall is expecting us," she whispered, grabbing his arm and maneuvering him out of the café. She pulled him into a dark alley where they apparated separately into Hogsmeade.

"You're the only one," Harry muttered as they walked from the Three Broomsticks towards the gates of Hogwarts, "I know that could possibly apparate without spilling any of their coffee." She smirked at him and took a sip, moving about the grounds, attempting to avoid the new hills and holes and mounds created by the devastation of the battle. They reached the steps to find a vast crowd of people waiting outside.

"It's him!"

"It's really him!"

"Harry Potter!"

"Merlin's beard—I thought he had died!"

"Harry Potter," a squeaky and all-too-familiar voice called from the top. The crowd died down as everyone turned to stare at Rita Skeeter, dressed in her normal garb, a Quick Notes Quill poised in front of a large roll of parchment that was levitating beside her, "how… _kind_ of you to join us; yes, how unbelievably… _heroic_… of you to make it," she whispered, her penciled-on eyebrows shooting up into her platinum blonde fringe. "Care to make any opening statements, or are you only here to help us before you go on another... vacation?"

"Miss Skeeter, press is not permitted at this moment. Please escort yourself from these grounds before I have someone else… _help_." Minerva McGonagall was never one to be taken lightly, but Rita stood her ground.

"Who said I was writing an article?" She questioned. "Who said I wasn't here to help? I'm just… curious," she shrugged her tiny shoulders, thrusting her hands into the air vaguely, a wicked grin on her face. She turned back towards the crowd, her eyes meeting Harry's. "In fact… I think we're all a little… _curious_."

"Well, I'm a little tired… and what's really important here is that this school gets rebuilt so as to become a permanent monument for the lives lost," Harry said, his eyes holding the determined glint everyone had come to know so well. He was silently challenging Rita to continue with her nit-picking. The crowd seemed to appreciate his answer, and they also turned to Rita for her rebuttal.

"There are many who believe that leaving the castle as is would be the perfect monument for what had occurred," she shrugged her shoulders, moving down the steps, the scroll and quill following her. "And the children are still being taught magic—why should the school be rebuilt at all?" Her ruby red lips curved upwards into a bright smile, and Harry shrugged his shoulders.

"Because some of those who were killed were students," Harry said calmly, letting the words sink in. "They never had the chance to finish their education, and they loved this school so much that they _chose_ to fight for it. Why leave something in destruction that they had loved enough to die for?"

She was quiet for a long time, the purple quill flying across the parchment with every word Harry spoke. The crowd was quiet, watching the verbal fighting match carry on, as Hermione looked on smugly behind Harry. Then and only then did Rita notice the bushy-haired former Gryffindor, and she visibly stiffened at Hermione's appearance. She nodded curtly and muttered a low, "Thank you for your time," before moving quickly across the grounds, the parchment persisting behind her.

Harry looked up at McGonagall, who had a somber smile on her face. She nodded and motioned for Harry and Hermione to follow her. As they moved inside the castle, McGonagall turned to the crowd. "Thank you for volunteering, but please come back tomorrow as there is nothing to be done today." There was a collective groan of displeasure, but it was lost when McGonagall shut the large oak doors behind her. "Come this way," she said briskly to her former students, who hastened to keep up with her. They reached the headmaster's office, and McGonagall allowed them in with a quick, "Albus," to the gargoyle. She unlocked her door with her wand and stepped inside. She turned back around and locked it again with her wand before moving to sit behind her desk. "So," she said lowly, looking from Harry to Hermione than back to Harry. "I suppose you have some news for me?"

"Yes, Professor," Hermione nodded, reaching into her back. She pulled out the various texts and papers that she had toiled over for the past two days. She explained everything to McGonagall in much more detail than she had to Harry. She showed McGonagall her plan to get the school running by Christmas, and even her drawings of how the new Hogwarts will look.

"You see, Professor," she said, pointing to the new additions that she had added on to the castle, "we can't go back to Hogwarts being exactly what it once was, but we can make it better." She pointed from the new turrets to the additional halls, from a list of new courses that McGonagall might consider. "That is," Hermione said softly, avoiding McGonagall's piercing gaze, "if you don't become the new Minister—Ministress?—of Magic."

"I wasn't even thinking about it, Granger," McGonagall dismissed with a wave of her hand. "But I appreciate the amount of work you've put into this, and these are all valid points. I'll have to look things over and make some very tough decisions tonight, I'm sure." She nodded, standing up. "Unfortunately, I don't think I'll be able to remain as Headmistress, either… I'm looking for a replacement."

"Replacement?"

"I'm not getting any younger, Potter," she said with a tight-lipped smile to an aghast Harry. He smiled a little, and Hermione nodded politely. "Besides, there's so many other things I can do, now… different places where I could help," she shrugged her shoulders and smiled. "This new world needs a new leader, and it's definitely not me."

"Are any other teachers retiring?"

"A few… we were also finding it difficult to locate a new Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she looked thoughtfully at Harry for a moment before she shook her head. "But if we could open by Christmas, that gives us plenty of time to find one," she shrugged, leaning across the table to shake both of their hands. "Thank you for your help—shall I see you tomorrow?"

"Yes," Harry said firmly, and Hermione smiled.

"Of course."

"And a certain Mister Weasley?" She asked curiously, and Hermione frowned.

"He's… well, he's a bit busy with George…trying to reopen that business as well," she said with a bit of difficulty, her eyes watering up ever so slightly. McGonagall nodded with a small smile.

"Yes, I understand," she moved around her desk. "Would you like to use the floo to get home, or—?"

"The floo would be wonderful," Hermione nodded, moving towards the fireplace. She smiled warmly at McGonagall. "Lovely seeing you, Professor," she nodded, turning to Harry. "Coming over for supper?"

"If you'll have me," he nodded, and she smiled.

"See you at six, then." And with that she threw the powder into the flames, and with a shout of, "Flat 6C Botts' Building!" she was gone.

Harry moved towards the fireplace but was halted by McGonagall calling his name. He turned to look at her, and she shook her head. "You gave us all a fright, disappearing like that," she said firmly, glaring at him from behind her glasses. Her face softened, however, as she continued, "So next time… let one of us know," she moved towards him and placed her hands on his shoulders. "It may not seem like it at times—but you're not alone, Harry. No one in this world is ever truly alone," she briefly gazed back at the portrait of Dumbledore, who was watching the both of them with twinkling eyes. She turned back to Harry with a brave smile. "I'll see you tomorrow, Potter," she said primly, moving back towards her desk. She watched him disappear with a sigh of relief.

"You shouldn't have expected so much from him, Minerva," Dumbledore's grave voice called down to her.

"We all expected so much—and he surpassed all of those expectations!" She retorted, turning to stare at him with a look of true sadness in her eyes. "I suppose none of us expected how he was going to take it all in, that's all."

"He's reacting quite well for having done as much as he has," Dumbledore shrugged with an odd sort of smile on his face. "I half-expected him to give up a long while ago."

"I think we all did, Albus," McGonagall said softly, losing her thoughts in the crackling of the fire.

_

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_To be continued..._

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_Quicker_ update due to the fact that I had this one saved from when I started this story, but it's the last one I worked on continuously, so the next update won't be as quick.

_A little side-note_: this was written before Dumbledore was outed, so if the last part seems a bit more... out of character or whatever, it's because I wrote this part before that interview hit the news.

Thanks for reading!


	4. Of dinner parties with unwanted guests

**Author's Notes:** See previous chapters for disclaimers. I apologize for the tardiness of my update, and the shortness of this chapter. Hope you enjoy!_

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Of dinner parties with unwanted guests...

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"Why's there four places set?" Ron called into the kitchen, sitting down at the table with a bewildered look upon his face. "Is Ginny coming over?"

"No, no, she's busy with all the work your mother's given her," Hermione called back. Ron bit his lip.

"George bringing over a girl?" He asked a redundant question; George barely spoke to his family, let alone to a girl he may or may not be interested in. He frowned at Hermione's dismissive snort. She came in carrying a pot of stew, and she paused to glance at him.

"C'mon… who's left?" She asked smartly, placing the stew onto the table. He continued to stare blankly at her, and her fists kneaded their way into her hips as she smirked. He glared at her.

"Percy?" He questioned stupidly, before he groaned. "Oh, don't tell me that you bloody invited _him_!"

"Yes, yes I did, and it wouldn't kill you to be civil, you know!" She raised her own voice to match his frantic call. She disappeared back inside the kitchen and was fussing with the dishes rather loudly.

"Actually, it would!" He called back, stabbing a potato out of the stew. He ate it and glared at the door she had disappeared behind. It swung open again to reveal a red-faced Hermione carrying a basket of buns.

"Why can't you simply forgive him?" She snapped, slamming the basket down on the table and causing the buns to fly into the air. They landed haphazardly in and around the basket, but she ignored them and instead regarded Ron.

"Because, 'Mione—Ginny's my baby sister!"

"And your baby sister is of age!" She shouted, exasperated. "She can make her own decisions, Ron, and she can surely deal with her own emotions!"

"I told him, though!" Ron insisted, standing up to tower over her as he did in all of their more heated arguments. "I told him—I warned him, more like it! I told him that if he broke her heart—"

"But _he_ didn't!" She interrupted him with a high-pitched squeak. "She broke up with him—it was her own decision!"

"But he said it was his fault—!"

"And do you want to know why, Ron?" Hermione challenged in a low voice, glaring at him so fiercely that her eyes were nearly closed. "Do you want to know why he thinks it's his fault?" She leaned forward, as if to tell him some large secret, before she shouted into his ear, "Because Harry always blames himself for something he never did in the first place! She broke up with him because she couldn't deal with him always leaving her behind and never including her!"

"So you see—it is his fault!"

"When did you talk to Ginny during that year we were gone? Did you divulge any of our plans in her, either?" He hung his head guiltily, and Hermione sighed. "Do you see it now?"

"Still… it wasn't as if I had any choice, you know. Couldn't talk to her without alerting the entire family I was home," he said softly, and Hermione made to continue, annoyed with how stubborn he was being when George called his hello from the fireplace.

"In here, George," Hermione called, sitting down at their dining room table. George appeared a moment later, and offered them both his own closed-mouth smile. They nodded their salutations, and he took his normal seat next to Ron.

"Another person?" He motioned to the fourth seat beside Hermione. "Ginny—?" He questioned somewhat anxiously; Hermione smiled and shook her head.

"Harry," she said simply, and Ron rolled his eyes. George shrugged.

"Can we start without him?"  
"I don't see why not," Hermione shrugged, and they each doled out their food. Just as Ron was taking his first bite, however, there was an incessant taping on the window. He turned to see a Ministry owl outside their window. He was up and there in a second, grabbing the bird and retrieving his letter.

"Is that—?" George started, and Hermione beamed.

"Well—open it!" She nearly shouted with her excitement and anticipation for the news. Ron's hands shook as he clumsily broke the seal and tore open the envelope. His blue eyes widened as he read the first few lines, and he dropped the letter a moment later.

"I'm in!" He shouted, and Hermione grinned. She stood up and hugged him tightly. He kissed her hair and beamed at George, who had picked up the letter a bit disdainfully. He let go of Hermione, who turned to find out what could have possibly upset Ron. "You… you okay, George?"

"Hmm—? Oh, yes, I'm fine," he shrugged, dropping the letter beside Ron's plate. "Congratulations," he offered dishearteningly. Ron sighed, sitting down.

"I'm still going to help out at the shop, you know," he muttered to his brother. George perked up at this, but he shrugged it off a moment later.

"You won't have the time—I understand."

"C'mon, George, a promise is a promise," Ron shrugged, taking a large bite of his food. "'M yer brova, ye know," he said with his mouth full, earning a groan from Hermione and a chuckle out of George.

"Really? Never knew I had a brova," George joked quietly, and Ron smiled. He glanced at Hermione, who shared in his smile. "Yes, yes, I made a bloody joke… finish your dinner and stop staring at each other before I lose my own appetite." Hermione blushed and Ron chuckled.

"Yes, Mum," he muttered, and George nudged him with his elbow. The table fell silent again as they ate, before Ron spoke up again. "Where's Harry?" He asked curiously, looking at Hermione.

"I… I don't know—I told him six," she shrugged, looking at the clock on the wall.

"Maybe he decided to disappear again," Ron shrugged nonchalantly, hiding a horrible smirk. "Perhaps I should check my pillow for another shitty note."

"Or maybe McGonagall held him back to talk with him privately," Hermione glowered at Ron. "Or perhaps he went around the school… none of us have seen it since that night."

"Suppose so," Ron shrugged, regarding Hermione thoughtfully. "How'd it go today, anyway?" He asked her conversationally, grabbing a bun from the basket. He tore off a piece and ate it as she thought about it some more.

"All right, I guess. I don't think McGonagall liked the idea of changing the castle from what it once was…" Hermione trailed off as both Ron and George's jaws dropped.

"Change it?"

"It's impossible to rebuild it to what it previously looked like. To rebuild it, we have to use new magic on it," she said defensively, pausing mid bite. She placed her spoon back in the bowl and looked from one to the other. "New and old magic don't do so well together. To rebuild, we have to add onto what's currently there."

"Oh," Ron shrugged, and Hermione ended the conversation, seeing as both were completely uninterested. As the awkward silence become nearly suffocating, it was broken by someone's arrival through the floo.

"Hello, Harry!" Hermione called into the living room, "we're all in here!"

"Sorry I'm late," Harry muttered, nodding at Ron and George. He passed a bottle of firewhiskey to Hermione. "I got my Ministry letter, so I assumed you got yours," he waved his letter up to them all with a shy smile on his face. "So… I went out and bought something to celebrate with."

"You were accepted, too?" Hermione gushed with a grin. "Oh, how wonderful! Harry—"

"Actually… I haven't opened mine, yet," Harry said nervously, shrugging off his cloak and attempting to avoid meeting Ron or George's eye as they glared at him.

"But you feel like you're a guarantee?" Ron muttered darkly, quirking a brow. Harry shook his head.

"No, I figured _you_ were," Harry said quietly, watching Ron carefully. Gesturing to Ron's open letter, he grinned, "Suppose I was right, too."

"Well, open yours!" Hermione persisted, shooting Ron a look. "I'm sure you're accepted, too," she continued as Harry opened it, "I mean, the Ministry would have to be full of total morons if Harry Potter wasn't accepted… not saying that you should get special treatment, but—come on… you did defeat the darkest wizard of our time!" She continued rambling nervously as Harry read the first few lines of his letter. "Like I said—no special treatment, but you really are a guaran—"

"No special treatment whatsoever," Harry shrugged, his face falling. "I… I didn't make it in."

"Are you serious?" Ron asked, totally dumbfounded. He couldn't, however, drop the smirk from his face. Harry let it go, however, realizing that this must be a large boost to Ron's self-esteem… and ego. "Wow, never thought I'd see the day…"

"Don't gloat, Ron, it's not very attractive," Hermione said firmly, turning to Harry apologetically. "I'm sorry, Harry—perhaps you could take your N.E.W.T.s and then—"

"No, no," Harry shook his head. "You know… maybe this is all for the best… I mean, I've had enough fighting evil wizards for a while. Perhaps I should think of something else to do," he shrugged, taking a bit out of his stew. "This is delicious, Hermione."

"Yeah," Ron reiterated, leaving Harry's letter beside his own and taking another large mouthful. He chewed and swallowed before continuing, "You've come a long way from mushroom gush and berry mash." He joked lightly, but Hermione wasn't paying attention.

"Harry, this is what you've wanted to do since you heard about the job!" She stressed, completely disregarding her own stew. "At least go and talk to Kingsley about it," she suggested lightly. Harry nodded, really only agreeing so they could change the subject.

"So, how's the shop going?" He attempted, offering Ron and George a small smile. Ron shrugged, turning his attention fully onto his dinner. He sighed and turned to George, who made a similar move.

"It's going."

Harry sighed, deciding to delve into his supper as well. The awkward silence was nearly suffocating as they continued, Hermione's own attempts being equally shot down. Harry felt sorry, knowing they were only doing so because she had been the one to invite him. After fifteen more minutes, Harry couldn't take it anymore. "Hermione, this has been lovely, but..." he looked between George and Ron before turning back to Hermione, "I should be going."

"No, Harry--stay," she interjected quickly, standing up and moving to block his path. "Really--we haven't even had dessert yet!"

"Hermione, it's fine," Harry smiled reassuringly, standing up. "Really... I'm going to go talk to Kingsley... like you said I shoul--"

He paused as someone was coming out of the fireplace. His breath hitched in his throat, as a large knot settled in his stomach. He hadn't seen Ginny since his return, and he wasn't really ready to see her yet. He looked down quickly, and bent down as if to tie his shoe. "Hello!" An airy voice called, and Harry both sighed with relief and groaned with anticipation.

"Hi, Luna," Hermione said curiously, looking at her strangely. "How'd you get past the--"

"Ginny told me," she shrugged, her blonde hair bouncing as her shoulders rolled. She offered everyone a bright smile. "We went out to lunch today--she's so lovely," she said sweetly, her voice sounding like music as she walked into the dining room. "Oh, Ron--George!" She clapped her hands together. "I didn't expect to see you--are you doing well?" She turned to Hermione, "Ginny said Ron's been upset lately... you don't think any Japping Jaspbugs have infested your flat--which is quite interesting, by the way..." She looked around her as if just noticing the decor. "Not what I thought your flat would look like... where are all the books?" She laughed, which only made the slightly insulting compliment more uncomfortable.

"Are you here for dinner?" Hermione asked, not quite sure what to exactly do about Luna. She shook her head, smiling.

"No, no," she paused, looking at the stew. "I ate something already," she smiled, pulling a magazine from under her arm. "I came to give you this!" She handed it to Hermione. Harry stood up, feeling it was about time he showed his face. Luna grinned. "Harry! I didn't expect to see you here!" She hugged him fiercely, which only caused him to inwardly groan at the glares Ron and George were sending his way. "How are you?"

"Fine, Luna," he said, patting her shoulder awkwardly. She let go, still beaming. "And you?"

"Fantastic!" She giggled. "Hermione, do you like it?"

Hermione looked up from the cover, "Hmm--? What--oh, yes, it's a very lovely gift, thank you." Obviously distracted, she resumed her staring. Harry looked at the magazine in her hands back to Luna.

"You didn't--"

"I did!" She smiled. "My first order of business was to write an entire series about our research over the summer," she nodded, moving over to grab the magazine out of Hermione's hands. "Then, when I finished, I started accepting other entries--this entire magazine is devoted to the veterans... it's going to be a Quibbler series--for the next month or so." She flipped through the pages, "I've got letters from families of casualties... there's an article about the Final Battle that Neville wrote... a spread of pictures taken by Colin Creevey," she prattled off a few other features of the new magazine before she handed it to Harry. "But all the mail I keep getting is about you, Harry," she said quietly, watching him carefully. "They want to know about before the trip... about the year you three went missing."

"They do?" Ron suddenly piped up from his seat, breaking his wall of silence he had been holding against Harry. Luna smiled.

"Of course!" She turned to Hermione. "That's another reason as to why I'm here..." She quirked her head to the side, taking in Hermione's presence. "Would you like to write it, Hermione?"

"Me?"

"No, the other Hermione in the room," the sarcasm was lost on everyone, as Luna wasn't very convincing with it. They all awkwardly laughed to save face, while Luna howled with her own musical laughter. "Yes, you! I'd even pay you."

"I don't know, Luna... That year was... hard," she said, her hand going to the scar on her neck, her eyes darting to meet Ron's apprehensive ones.

"You should do it, Hermione," Ron said suddenly, in a quiet sort of voice. When everyone turned to look at him, his ears turned red as he sputtered, "I mean... you've been looking for a job for ages, now... and..."

"Yeah, Hermione," Harry added. "Write it."

"Please?" Luna asked, quirking her head to the side again. Hermione sighed, nodding her head anxiously.

"Fine. I'll write it."

"Good--I'll need the first portion by Sunday," she said brightly, patting on Hermione's arm. "Unless... you'll be too busy, what with the school and all..."

"Sunday would be... a stretch," Hermione relented, and Luna smiled.

"As soon as possible, then!" She said jubilantly, waving giddily at the four of them. She handed the magazine back to Hermione with a grin, patting her shoulder. "Well, I must be off!" She called, waving at Ron and George. She grabbed Harry in another awkward hug, before breathing a, "Farewell!" With a few more graceful steps, she was in the fireplace, and out of sight.

Unfortunately, the awkwardness between the feuding friends persisted. George cleared his throat, motioning for Hermione to show him the magazine, and Ron busied himself with finishing off his dinner, while Hermione seemed to not know what to do with herself. Harry bit his lip. "Well, I'm going to go as well," he nodded, remembering what he was going to do from the start. "G'bye," he nodded, moving towards the fireplace. He turned once he reached it and smiled, "And congrats again, Ron--you deserve it." He threw the powder into the fireplace and was off.

"Damn right I do," Ron muttered, breathing a sigh of relief as Harry left. "Cripes, Hermione, that was awkward."

"It didn't have to be," she snapped, taking her seat at the table. She viciously tore into her roll, and Ron backed off, mentally kicking himself for pissing her off. He turned to George.

"Anything interesting or all hogwash?"

"Wha--? No, very interesting," George closed it quickly, hiding the article about Harry from Ron's view. He didn't want to cause a stir. "She seems to have changed a lot about it. Good for her," he shrugged, diving into his dinner. Ron sighed, having already finished.

"Can I see it?"

"Later--don't read at the table," Hermione ordered, taking a sip of her tea. When Ron groaned, staring down at his plate, Hermione and George shared a secret look. This was something Ron needed to read by himself, without anyone around to talk with him about it. He would only want to argue, or rant, or complain, and neither Hermione nor George was in the mood for that.

_To be continued..._

**Next Chapter:** Luna's Article, Ron's reaction, and trouble brewing...


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